


Bad Blood

by LoveLikeWinter1



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Multi, On the Run, Other, Post-Dragon Age II, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-18 17:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13104696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveLikeWinter1/pseuds/LoveLikeWinter1
Summary: After the events that shook Kirkwall, Marian, Anders and Justice run into some unforeseen cirumstances, and come to terms with a harrowing, if undeniable, truth.





	1. Justice

**Author's Note:**

> I *should* be working on Golden Shackles, but a lovely prompter recently proposed me an old DA KMeme prompt, and it was so heartbreaking I simply had to take it on! Plus my lovely, multi-lingual proof-reader is back, so what better way to celebrate than write some self-indulgent, if tragic, DA2 goodness? 
> 
> Should anyone be triggered or squicked, this contains moderate hints to an established three-way relationship (Hawke/Anders/Justice), and addresses the themes of pregnancy, birth, and child surrender/adoption.

Crestwood was little more than a dreary, bleak collection of thatch roofed cabins surrounding a weathered stone dam, yet Anders would have gladly spent what little gold they had to spend a night in the village’s inn, to enjoy the luxury of a hot meal and a feather bed. Justice could almost taste Anders’ frustration as he resumed trying – and failing – to build a campfire. The village was only a few yards away, desperately inviting as it laid bathed in a sunset glow. Firelight flickered from the hovels’ windows and smoke billowed from the red brick chimneys, and Anders thought he could smell the food cooking on the fires, capons and fried onions and warm rye bread. The thought was more than enticing, and for a split second Anders considered risking it.

Justice disagreed.   
Hawke had been careful enough to keep the three of them out of trouble, and Justice would not – could not - invalidate her efforts by letting Anders wander into danger. Justice spoke his mind as well as he could, easing forward and letting his own feeling of distrust towards the village folk seep into Anders’ thoughts until it burned on his nerves and caused his stomach to churn. Justice was a cold hand on their heart, a maddening echo on their shared mind reminding them both of what they were, and why they wouldn’t be welcome among common folk.

Justice’s intrusion caused Anders to startle. Their shared body jerked ever so slightly, yet it was enough to knock over the pyramid of twigs Anders had been carefully assembling.

« I get it, » Anders grumbled as he ruefully began collecting the scattered dry wood. « No break for the runaway murderous apostate… That was wishful thinking, nothing more. »

Anders’ tone was too sarcastic to Justice’s liking, yet the mortal resumed his fire building attempt and spared no further thought to the village and its inn. Justice was content. Anders assembled the dry twigs into a messy pile before gathering energy from the Fade until flames danced in his upturned palm, hot and fiery. With effortless grace, Anders directed the flames towards the twigs ; the wood ignited in a blaze of yellow and orange.

« Hawke won’t be pleased, » Anders commented, and Justice had to agree. Despite their magic, the fire they had built was a pitiful thing : the heavier twigs quickly collapsed on themselves and scattered before the embers could reach them, while the smaller pieces of wood that were left were being consumed by the flames way too quickly.

« Hawke won’t be pleased about what ? » With a light-hearted chuckle Marian emerged from the thick border of underbrush which grew along the forest’s edge. She casually ran a hand through her hair, getting rid of a few dead leaves that had lodged themselved in it. Then Hawke spotted the fire, and laughed again. « Good thing I stuck around after Kirkwall; for all your magic, you wouldn’t survive a day in the wild. »

Anders sighed wearily and Justice surged forwards, annoyed by the mockery in Hawke’s tone. He saw the blue light dancing on their skin reflected in Marian’s eyes – bright, mischievous eyes, but tired, each sporting a dark circle underneath.

« No offense, love, » Marian said with a grin, raising her hands overhead in a gesture of surrender.  
  
« We did not ask you to come with us, » Justice protested, his voice a low, grating rumble. « You would have been safe in Kirkwall. You are not safe here. »  
  
Marian’s lips scrunched into a pout as she carefully stepped around their few belongings to run a hand through Anders’ hair, mussing it.  
  
« Oh, I didn’t mean… Of course I stuck around. » Justice scowled, and Marian leaned in to plant a kiss on his forehead. « You must learn not to take everything so literally. »  
  
« What is the purpose of speech if you do not say things literally? » Justice was confused.  
  
« A joke, love. Nothing more. » Marian kneeled next to him. The fire had dwindled and died, and Marian set to build it anew.  
  
« Mortals find it humorous to make comments that mean nothing and could easily be misinterpreted, » Justice reflected. « How very… logical. »  
  
« Ooh, sarcasm ! » Hawke beamed. « You learn quickly. »  
  
Justice groaned in frustration. He could feel Anders’ mind brush against his own in a gentle, encouraging gesture, and it was enough to quieten Justice’s vexation. When Anders gave a tentative push, Justice gladly relinquished control.  
  
« The woods not agreeing with him ? » Hawke asked. She gestured at the campfire she’d built – a much neater, sturdier version of Anders’ own lackluster work – and Anders let magic gather around it until the wood ignited.  
  
« We’ve lived in the city for too long. The mansion was a luxury – we both miss it. »  
  
« And to think I had to drag you out of that clinic every night. Never thought Justice would miss Hightown, » Hawke mused. « _The highborn feast on roast meats and sweet wines while the poor dine on stale crusts of bread. It is an injustice,_ » she continued in her best impression of Justice. Anders chuckled softly.  
  
« It’s not just that, » Anders continued, causing Hawke to raise a worried eyebrow. « He frets over you - more than I thought possible. We are of one mind, I’m aware my feelings for you are his and vice versa, but still… I feel responsible enough without adding Justice’s guilt to it. »  
  
Justice twisted, regret clenching at him as he brushed apologetically against their shared consciousness, radiating remorse. Anders’ lips stretched into a thin smile, and he gave a slow nod as a sign of forgiveness. This manner of communication was a poor one at best, spirit and host reaching each other through small gestures and ripples of throught: it wasn’t perfect, but it was the best they had.  
  
« That’s very sweet. And cute. And adorable. » Hawke’s eyes met Anders’ gaze ; she was grinning from ear to ear. « But I’m a little offended : he should trust more in my fighting skills. I’ve become particularly proficient at shivving Templars, as you well know. »  
  
« You made a remarkable impression on Meredith, as I recall. »  
  
« You could say her admiration of me is forever set in stone. » The joke was a poor one, and Justice stirred in annoyance. But Anders was laughing more genuinely than he had in a long time, so Justice forgave the mediocre pun.  
  
« That might have been your worst pun yet, » Anders commented.  
  
They sat in silence for a while, watching the flames lick the firewood and dance before their eyes, casting eerie shadows on the ground.   
Hawke was restless. Anders was too caught up in the flames’ dance to notice, but her struggling did not escape Justice’s scrutiny. Marian’s hands fluttered about constantly : moving through her hair, drawing senseless figures in the dirt, rummaging through her pack but never drawing anything from it. Justice nudged Anders’ mind to get his attention.  
  
« Something the matter, love ? » Anders asked softly. Hawke hung her head with a long, soft sigh, and when she turned to face them she could not have looked more worried.  
  
« We’ve got to talk, » Marian said, chewing her lip.  
  
Justice’s panic fluttered in their chest, twisting around Anders’ gut and sending a shiver down his spine. She might be ill. She may have spotted someone stalking them. Or perhaps she'd finally made the logical decision of abandoning them for the safety and comfort that a highborn woman should be living in. Justice wouldn’t blame her.  
  
« You know how I’ve been regularly sneaking into the woods of late ? »  
  
« To make water ? Yes. »  
  
Marian swallowed hard, her quickened breaths causing her chest to raise and fall rythmically: ot was an enticing sight, and for a moment Anders’ eyes lingered over the soft swell of her breasts, and Justice almost let it distract him as well.  
  
« I _really_ need you to focus, » Marian pleaded, struggling to keep a serious face despite the grin tugging at her lips. Anders smiled apologetically. «I didn’t go to make water. Not always, at least. » Hawke worried at her lip. « I’ve been… A little ill. Nauseous. In the mornings, mainly. »  
  
Justice almost let his panic take over. Blue flickered in Anders’ veins as Justice stirred, but his host forced him to keep quiet a little longer.  
  
« Also I – I haven’t, well… I haven’t bled in a while. A few months, I think. It’s hard to keep track in the wilderness. »  
  
Anders’ breath caught in his throat, and he gasped loudly, grasping for air. Justice could feel Anders’ fear in the quickened pounding of his heartbeat and the knot in his stomach, yet the spirit did not understand : a lack of bleeding was usually regarded as a sign of good health among mortals. Even Justice knew that much.  
  
« You can’t possibly mean… » Anders’ words hung heavy in the air as he licked his lips nervously. « Marian, that’s – »  
  
« Impossible! I know! » Hawke let out a nervous laugh. « Grey wardens, horrible taint, _something something_ … Right ? »  
  
Anders stared at Marian in utter disbelief, his mind too blank for Justice to draw anything from it. Justice stirred again, to no avail : Anders ignored him even as Justice snapped bitterly within.  
  
« You can check, right ? » Hawke brought her hands together, anxious fingers twisting around each other. « With magic. I’ve seen you do it before. »  
  
Anders nodded without a word, placing both his hands on Hawke’s taut belly, and understanding began to dawn on Justice. Anders had done this before, many times over, back when he ran the clinic in Darktown, and he had always been looking for the same thing. Justice forcefully pushed closer to the surface, drawing strength from Anders’ use of magic. Anders did not try to stop him, and Justice manifested as a faint, flickering glow on Anders’ skin; Justice lingered there, close enough to feel what Anders did without overpowering his host, struggling to restrain his own panic to avoid interfering with Anders' work. Magic poured from Anders’ palms and danced on Hawke’s skin. Marian sucked in a shaky breath and her skin crawled all over as Anders skillfully directed the flow of magic across the pale skin, before pushing underneath.  
  
Then it hit something, something that shouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – have been there, and Justice broke free with a groan. Fear and confusion clawed at him, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Hawke said something to him, although the blood pounding in his ears seemed louder than anything else. Anders was desperately trying to push through, seeping into their mind in an attempt to quieten him, but it was for naught. Justice’s own magic poured into Hawke, unshackled and wild, searching for the peculiarity Anders had found only seconds ago. A mistake. It _had_ to be a mistake.  
  
Yet Justice found it too : the smallest, faintest hint of life. His magic clung to it, pouring from the Fade to twist and swirl around the small bump in a tantalizing dance. It was the most frightening phenomenon Justice had ever seen, and the most beautiful. A heartbeat later Anders was pleading for control, and Justice gave in, albeit grudgingly. Justice’s mind was frantic, and the transition wasn’t as smooth as it had been earlier : Anders was left panting as he leaned heavily on Marian.  
  
« So, » Hawke cut in, getly pushing back a strand of hair from Anders’ sweat-damp brow, « that was a pretty strong ‘yes’. »  
  
« Took him a while to figure it out, » Anders blurted, still shaken from Justice’s agitation. « He’s seen it before, but never – never this close. I tried to hold him back, but… He really wanted to see. »  
  
Justice stirred, wondering how he could be feeling so frantic yet so numb. Anders was trying – really trying – to hide Justice’s lasting anxiousness, and for that Justice was grateful.  
  
« And what does he make of it ? » Hawke smiled: it was a nervous, lopsided grin, and Justice knew it was a forced one.  
  
« I’m… not sure, » Anders replied. He began feeling for Justice’s thoughts, pushing closer to the fragment of their mind that was all Justice. The spirit tried to cling to his thoughts, tried to hide his confusion from Anders, yet the mortal was persistent in his intent, and Justice felt his thoughts elude him entirely as Anders overpowered him. « It’s… frightening, to him. Beautiful, too. »  
  
Marian smiled, more sincerely this time.  
  
« And to you ? » Her voice was barely a whisper, her arms snaking through Anders’ as thin fingers wrapped around his shoulders. Anders gladly leaned into her touch, and Justice fluttered closer, humming against Hawke’s skin.  
  
« I – shit, Marian, I don’t know, I… This is - »

« I know this isn't ideal. I’m sorry, » Hawke blurted, lowering her gaze to stare at her boots instead. Justice wished to surge forward, to hold her tighter than he ever had and tell her it would be alright. But there was a flutter in Anders’ heart, and Justice chose to let him try.  
  
« You’re… Sorry ? » Anders’ words caught in his throat, and for a moment it looked as if he’d lost his voice entirely. Justice nudged at Anders’ mind, radiating a fear he couldn’t contain. But there was hope too, and happiness, and it helped clear Anders’ mind. « Don’t ever be sorry for this, » Anders said, his voice trembling under the weight of his – their – emotions. He pulled Marian in closer, feeling her shoulders shake as she stifled a sob. « Never. You have given me _everything_. »


	2. Bethany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, working Chrismas eve really sucked =w=  
> At least I managed to polish this off today; I hope y'all enjoy Chapter 2! Happy holidays to all!

The war between mages and Templars had wrought havoc across the Hinterlands, and Redcliffe had certainly taken the brunt of it. The village had already suffered under the Blight that had plagued Ferelden over a decade ago, depriving the village of most of its knights and warriors. Today Redcliffe’s population consisted of a handful of millers, blacksmiths and stone masons, and thrice as many widowed women and fatherless children, most of them gaunt and starving.

Yet this was Ferelden, and Bethany wouldn’t have wished to be anywhere else.She’d travelled back from Kirkwall with a handful of her closest friends from the Circle, all of them determined to act as a diplomatic envoy representing the few mages who’d rather push for peace than see the world burn in this war. Since their escape from Kirkwall, Bethany had made many allies, and twice as many friends. Alys was barely twenty years of age, yet she was Bethany’s closest friend and most trusted advisor. The girl had lived in the Circle her whole life; she had endured years of torment and abuse at the hands of the Templars, yet she would have gladly brokered peace with her tormentors to shield the rest of the world from the sufferings of war. Daveth was of an age with Marian, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, one of the best healers Bethany had ever met. Orienna, the dalish mage, could brew poisons out of edible berries, and Bethany had seen her shoot a deer twenty yards away in complete darkness. Bethany had cared for them since the day she helped free the mages of Kinloch Hold, and had continued doing so for the past year.

That day she shared a meagre meal of salt beef and hard cheese with Alys and Poxy Brom, the young orphan they’d found travelling down the West Road. The lad fell asleep soon after, and Bethany politely took her leave of Alys to go collect water from the closest well.   
On her way, she unfolded the parchment that laid crumpled in the pocket she’d sewm inside her robe.

« _P,_  
 _Meet us by the ravine on the first day of Harvestmere._  
_We have need of you – all four of us._  
 _Love, T_. »

The words were the same on the hundredth reading as they’d been on the first, when a gruff but amiable dwarf had carefully slipped the note between her fingers as she paid for a shipment of healing salves. The message was cryptic, yet Bethany was able to decode it quickly. It was from Marian, Bethany was sure of it. Varric had been Marian’s closest friend in Kirkwall, and the dwarf had bestowed upon her the rather fitting nickname ‘Trouble’. Moreover, the letter addressed Bethany as ‘P’, a throwaway to their father Malcolm, who affectionately referred to Beth as ‘Peaches’. The rest of the message was more difficult to decipher, however.  
After their escape from Kirkwall, Marian insisted Isabela dropped her and Anders at the nearest harbour. Bethany had tried to convince her sister to take her with them, but Marian refused: Anders was a known fugitive, and the mere act of associating with him would have warranted a public hanging. Marian would not give up on him, however, nor on Justice. Bethany knew better than to delve too deep into their relationship, but it had always been obvious to her that Marian did not just suffer Justice’s presence, but seemed to have developed a fondness for the trapped spirit. Bethany ignored whom the fourth person Marian referred to might have been, however.

Bethany left the mage encampment that night, shielded by darkness.  
The ravine Marian mentioned must have been the Rebel Queen’s ravine, named after Queen Moira Theirin, who’d died trying to save her people from Orlesian occupation. The Rebel Queen had been one of Marian’s childhood heroines, and the tale of how Moira roused most of Ferelden before her untimely death had quickly became one of Bethany’s favourite bedtime stories.

She walked for the better part of the night, wrapped in a woollen tunic and warm leather boots, ignoring her breathlessness and the occasional stitch. Over a year had passed since Kirkwall, and Bethany had received no news from her sister since. There were days when she doubted Marian was even still alive ; she wondered if Marian ever feared the same about her.  
  
Bethany reached the brow of the hill as the first few rays of sunshine hit the earth beneath ; the campfire she spotted by the mouth of the ravine was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Still Bethany walked cautiously, staff in hand as magic cracked and sparked around her fingertips. As certain as she was about the authenticity of the note, Behany had too much sense to walk into a potential trap unprepared. Then she saw sunligh reflecting on a dagger held high overhead by a shadowy figure. One flash for Templars, two for guards, three for friends, just like their father taught them.  
Bethany ran.  
  
Marian was vastly unchanged, Betany noticed as she crashed into her sister in a fit of laughter. A little thinner and wilder-looking than she’d been in Kirkwall, but that much was to be expected after a year on the run. Marian pulled Bethany closer in a tight embrace, knocking the air out of her. Bethany laughed and struggled, snaking her arms through and pushing Marian back in a bid to break free. Then Bethany’s hands brushed against her sister’s stomach, and her legs went weak. Marian pulled back, her lips stretched in a thin smile.  
  
« Marian? » Bethany was dumbfounded. There were a thousand questions she wished to ask, yet all she could do was stare at the small bump in complete astonishment. Her heart twisted and fluttered as she remembered their mother, and her eyes welled with tears.  
  
« It’s good to see you, » a voice called, startling her. Anders stood awkwardly behind the two sisters, honey-coloured strands of hair falling over soft amber eyes, his demeanor cat-like and weary, but courteous still. Anders’ lips stretched into a thin smile, and he let Bethany sneak her arms aroung his shoulders.  
  
« I’ve been worrying about you, » Bethany said truthfully. « After Kirkwall, you – you weren’t exactly in a good place ; I’m glad you’re okay. »  
  
« Really ? » Anders breathed softly, his voice laden with genuine surprise.  
  
« Of course, stupid. » Bethany swatted him lightly on the chest. « You’re family now, » she added, her gaze lingering on Marian’s small bump. « That must have been… unexpected, » Bethany pointed out. «I know it’s rare for Grey Wardens to father a child. »  
  
« Nearly unheard of, » Anders replied, « but there have been exceptions. Maybe my merging with Justice had an effect on the Taint. Perhaps we just got incredibly lucky – »  
  
« And perhaps he’s not the father, » Marian cut in, grinning. « Perhaps I found myself a strapping young lad to ravish me under the moonlight. »  
  
« After you nearly drove yourself mad chasing after this one for three whole years, back in Kirkwall ? » Bethany retorted with a chuckle.  
  
« I _never_ , » Marian argued, eyes widening in feigned outrage. « Anders was smitten the moment he saw me, » she added with a cocky grin, and Anders shook his head helplessly. « Justice was the one playing hard to get. »  
  
There was a flash of blue in Anders’ veins, and for a heartbeat the very air around Bethany shifted. Justice was static in the air, a whisper from the Fade that crawled on her skin, sending a chill down her spine. Yet the energy that seeped from Anders was quiet and calm and almost apologetic, and Bethany managed a weak smile.  
  
« See ? » Marian glanced fondly at her lover – her _lovers_ \- , entirely unbothered by Justice’s manifestation. « He agrees. »


	3. Anders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be full of typos, but work has made me completely brain-dead, so I apologise for any misshap!  
> There's a tiny bit of smut in here, but I've kept in rather tame.  
> Also, be aware that it contains mild and not hugely descriptive mentions of pregnancy and birth, and quite a lot of swearing - this is a Purple/reddish Hawke going through unimaginable pain, after all xD

Lordsport could hardly be called a village, or a port, for that matter.  
A handful of huts of stone and mud neighboured a long pier of salt weathered stone, to which the fisherfolk had tied half a dozen creaking fishing boats. Lordsport’s inhabitants swore they descended from Lord Wendel Dunstbury, to whom Kind Calenhad himself had bestowed every speck of land this side of the River Dane. They were proud folk, and suspicious of strangers, but Anders was able to cure one of their mabari, a huge, proud beast that had been poisoned by Dalish hunters who’d wandered too close to the village. The cunning creature had since taken a shine to Anders, and the fisherfolk had extended an invitation to remain, given Hawke’s condition.

Anders had worried his taint might have negative repercussions on Hawke and the child, yet every single one of the hundreds of examinations he’d insisted on performing on her yielded the same result : Marian was fit as a fiddle, and the child was as well, as far as Anders could tell. The fisherfolk agreed to let the two of them stay in one of the empty huts in exchange for Anders’ services. Bethany contented herself to sleep in a wooden cabin that she shared with a handful of refugees and orphaned children that had stumbled upon the village while fleeing the war.

While Bethany seemed happy enough with having a roof over her head once more, Marian soon grew bored. The pregnancy had finally caught up with her, and Anders had to prescribe as much rest as possible : it didn’t take long for Marian to begin resenting him for cooping her up. Earlier that night he found her bathing in the river, the village’s whole pack of mabari hounds happily splashing and yapping around her : Marian was gingerly wrestling one of the pups, a beast big enough to dwarf any bloodhound. The pup protested when Anders ran to drag Marian away, half-naked and dripping and laughing at the pup’s attempt to rescue her by biting onto her leg and refusing to let go.

Anders’ concern was nothing compared to Justice’s fury. They’d been working on Marian’s leg, which was bleeding from the dog’s bite, and Anders was struggling to keep Justice’s anger from flaring.

« You could have fallen, » Anders said, though the grating harshness in his voice was all Justice. « You could have caught a cold. »

« But I didn’t, Justice, love. » Hawke gave a dismissive shrug. « Besides, I could have gotten hurt staying here, too. The hut could have caught on fire while I cooked a stew like a good little housewife, » she added, scrunching her nose.

« It’s made of stone, » Anders pointed out, and Marian flicked her wrist, swatting at his shoulder in annoyance. Justice stirred uneasily.

« Quit glaring, » Marian grumbled. « You of all people should know how frustrating it is to be trapped inside. »

« You are not trapped the way I am. » Justice knew better than to start glowing anywhere near the village, yet he was still able to take hold of Anders’ thoughts and words through sheer will, so long as Anders let him. « All we ask is that you take better care of yourself, » Justice added, more softly this time. 

« I’m fine, love, » Marian smiled. « We both are. »

Justice stirred, radiating love and warmth and only the slightest hint of annoyance, and Anders extended an arm to lay his hand atop Hawke’s belly. The child had grown large enough for Justice to be able to feel the life inside without resorting to magic : each movement, each heartbeat resonated within spirit and host alike, and it nevel failed to leave them both speechless.  
  
Hawke smiled and Anders kissed her – or Justice did – or both. It started as a tentative graze on Marian’s lips, but she was warm and naked and eager, and Anders and Justice both _craved_ her. Hawke responded differently to each, leaning into Anders’ soft, teasing caresses and whimpering when Justice crashed their mouth against her neck and sucked hard, fingernails raking across Hawke’s back hard enough to leave a red trail.

Justice was blazing, unbridled heat under his skin, and Anders struggled to stay in control. He longed to slip into the part of their mind where they could lose themselves into each other, their shared arousal almost overwhelming, but he knew that doing so may cause some rather conspicuous glowing that would alert the fisherfolk. Anders pleaded and Justice settled, hovering just under Anders’ skin, causing the air around them to spark and hum pleasantly. Marian let out a quiet, broken moan, her back arching as the Fade itself sparked against her skin. Anders and Justice shifted to reach between Hawke’s legs, drinking in the sight of her, their minds wrung and writhing together in the searing heat of their frenzy.

« I love you, » Marian said, to Anders, to Justice, to the child inside her.   « I love you », she said again once the three of them laid on disheveled, sweat-damp sheets.

 

* * *

 

 

That very night, Marian’s flailing about woke him, and Anders knew the time had come.

It was a little early, and Marian argued vehemently that it was just a kick. She gingerly got up to grab a glass of water, claiming that a nice cool drink would set things straight. A heartheat later she stood in the middle of the room, doubled over in a fit of pain so great the glass slipped out of her hand and crashed on the ground, shattering.

« What in Andraste’s - fuck – _fuck_ that _fucking_ hurt. »

« Contractions, » Anders explained, rising at once. « They’ll get stronger. More frequent, too. »

« Ah, » Hawke commented dryly, « wonderful. »

Anders got out at once to rouse Bethany. He would have woken old Megara, who had been a midwife, but Marian threatened to murder him if he ‘ _let that old hag have a peek down there’_ , so Anders decided against it. Bethany rushed back to the hut with him, her woollen blanket draped around her delicate shoulders.

« How are you ? » Bethany asked Hawke he moment she entered the hut. Marian looked like she’d recovered from the first contraction, and shrugged amiacably.

« I’m fine Beth. It may be nothing still. »

« It’s most definitely _not_ nothing, » Anders argued. « This may take a while to start, but you are most definitely going through labour. »

« The healer hath spoken ! » Marian jibed, raising her hands dramatically.

Under Anders’ orders Bethany lit a fire in the stone chimney, and fetched some water and clean towels.

« What now ? » Bethany inquired, sitting herself at her sister’s bedside.

« Not much to do until the contractions become more frequent, » Anders explained, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. He was nervous, inexplainably so. He’d done this a thousand times, yet this time it was _Hawke_ , and suddenly the prospect of waiting idly for hours on end sounded like torture.

Anders busied himself with making sure Marian would be as comfortable as possible, propping her up against a stack of pillows and giving her a cup of watered-down honeyed wine. The wine wasn’t the finest, but it was better than the rank stuff Marian used to down by the gallon back at the Hanged Man, and it would help soothe her nerves nonetheless. When he was satisfied he’d made Hawke as comfortable as he could, Anders dragged a wooden stool to her bedside and sat himself on it. He gently laid a hand on her stomach, feeling for every shift, every movement.  
The next contraction caused Marian to himper and writhe in pain. Anders promptly poured a wave of healing magic onto her, the spell rendered even stronger by Justice’s own strenght. Marian relaxed under their touch, tension easing off her as spirit and host worked their magic to the best of their ability.

Dawn had almost broken by the time Anders was satisfied that Marian was getting close. Hawke had spent the last hour clutching Anders’ hand desperately tight every time a contraction struck – and she kept getting more and more vocal.

« Is it supposed to hurt this much ? » Hawke hissed through clenched teeth as Bethany dampened her brow with a wet cloth.

« Yes, love, » Anders replied apologetically.

Marian panted hoarsely, biting back a grunt.

« Do… I don’t know, _something_! » Another contraction, and this time Hawke howled with pain. « Wiggle your bloody fingers, ask Justice for help, knock me out if you must, just… Do. Something ! »

« I have given you elfroot exctract, as much as I dare. I’m afraid there’s not much else I can do. » Anders sneaked an arm around Marian’s shoulders and gave a tight squeeze. « You’re going to be fine ; I promise. » Hawke glowered at him, visibly unconvinced.

Bethany kept fretting over her sister – dampening her bow, holding her hand, telling stories of old Ferelden legends that Hawke barely listened to. Anders was frantic, and it took him a while to realise the panic was not his – not entirely.

« You’re not helping, » Anders breathed quietly, and for a heartbeat Justice’s panic threatened to overwhelm them. « I know what I’m doing. Trust me. » Justice twisted angrily, coiling around Anders’ spine, and Anders could have sworn there was a threat in there somewhere, a warning : mistakes would not be tolerated. Still Justice eventually quieted, if only to avoid distracting Anders.

« How is he doing ? » Marian asked. Her breaths came in short and ragged, and there were tears forming at the corners of her eyes despite Bethany’s best attempts at distracting her sister.

« He’s panicking. » Anders saw no reason to lie to her.

« Good, » Marian mused, « that makes two of us, then. »

Then Hawke shifted uncomfortably on the featherbed, her face scrunching in pain as she let out a broken cry. The pain took a long time to subsist this time, and Marian’s hold on Anders’ arm became bruising.

«  _You_ – you did this to me, » Marian panted once she was able to stop screaming. « I’m never letting you anywhere near me again. Not you, not Justice, not _anyone_. »

Bethany chuckled softly, before tensing up again as Marian rode through another wave of agonising pain.

« You’re doing wonderfully, love, » Anders planted a gentle kiss on her brow. « You need to let go of my arm now, » he added carefully, despite the murderous look in Marian’s eyes. « You’re getting close ; I’m going to have to keep a close look on the child from now on. »

Hawke looked as if she might bite his head off, but when he mentioned the child she reluctantly let go.

 « I need you to take in nice, long breaths, love, » Anders said as calmly as he could.

Marian twisted, grunted, and kept on taking obstinately short, ragged breaths.

« Can’t, » she panted.

« You can, » Anders promised with a smile. « Only a few. »

« I hate you, » Marian spat, but she did as she was bid, taking in a few deep, long breaths before breaking off in another fit of hoarse panting. Then she cried out again, so loudly that Bethany startled.

« Start pushing, love, » Anders said gently, rubbing her thigh is a bid to distract her. « Don’t stop until I say so. »

« I hate you _so_ much, » Marian grunted.

« I love you too. »

Tears were flowing unrestrainedly across Hawke’s cheeks, her whole body tensed up in a pain that Anders could not even begin to imagine. Yet she carried on, and Anders could not have been more proud, despite the unhealthy amount of profanities she was spouting.

A heartbeat later it was over, and Anders was holding the child - _his_ child – as carefuly as if it had been made of glass. The babe sucked in a breath and began crying, and it was the most beautiful sound Anders had ever heard.

« It’s a girl, Marian, » Bethany chimed, wide eyes glued to the child as Anders washed her carefully and wrapped it in a clean towel.

Justice flared so suddenly that Anders almost stumbled as a rush of unrestrained curiousness threated to overhelm him. Anders resisted, but Justice would not be contained, and he unceremoniously pushed Anders’ consciousness aside, bathing the room in a bright azure glow. Bethany gazed at him, worry evident in her eyes, but when Justice turned around to face Marian she was smiling. Justice brushed a humming finger against the newborn’s cheek with a gentleness Anders had never seen in him. The baby twitched slightly, her little arm flailing about : her fingers flexed around Justice’s hold, and he held his breath, enraptured by how firm the baby’s hold felt around his fingers. The spirit didn’t overstay his welcome, though : he gave the tiny fingers one last, gentle squeeze before gradually relinquishing control.

« He likes her, » Anders breathed, smiling.

« He better, » Marian mused.

Hawke looked exhausted, her tunic drenched in sweat and blood, yet her eyes were ever alert as Anders approached, holding the child close to his chest. He carefully began lowering the tiny bundle onto Hawke’s lap, but Marian flinched away from him.

« What if I drop her ? » Marian looked genuinely terrified as she gazed up at Anders. « Maker, she is so small. »

« You won’t, » Anders promised. « She’ll be fine, love ; babies are sturdier than you’d think.”

Marian hesitated, nodded, and extended her arms to grab hold of the child. The child squirmed and babbled, calming down as Marian pressed her tightly against her chest. For a few, long minutes, the only thing the three of them were able to do was stare at the newborn, and only when his eyes began to sting Anders realised he’d been crying. Marian had given birth to a perfect little thing, too perfect to have come from him, to be the result of the horrifying things he’d done, to be a part of what he was. His head was spinning, and he might have stumbled if not for Justice’s reassuring hold. The spirit extended reassuring tendrils of thought that took hold of Anders’ mind and managed to quieten the chaos within. Anders gave a slow, grateful nod.

« What’s her name ? » Bethany whispered softly, the gentleness of her voice grounding him somewhat.

« Leah, » Marian said as she she lovingly cradled the child. « After Mother. »

« It’s beautiful, » Bethany said, leaning in to plant a soft kiss atop the newborn’s head. « I shall leave the three of you to it, then, » she added. « The others will want to hear the good news. »

The door shut behind Bethany, and Anders realised all he’d been doing had been staring blankly at the child. _His_ child. His _daughter_. The word sounds strange, yet when Leah’s little face scrunched up in a rather comical expression, Anders realised no other word could ever be more beautiful.

« Cat got your tongue ? » Hawke asked with a smirk, shifting Leah up in her arms so that she might sit more comfortably. Marian held their daughter as if she’d been doing it all her life, despite the worried looks she kept shooting at the newborn every time Leah flexed a hand or waved an arm around.

« I just… » Anders’ voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard. His throat felt tight, and dry, and his mind was entirely blank, every fiber of his being enraptured by Leah’s minuscule body. She was small, even for a newborn, Anders realised as her minuscule fingers splayed against Hawke’s chest.  « With Justice, and the Taint, I never throught we’d manage children. »

« Well, » Hawke argued, let lips twisting in a mischievous grin, « it wasn’t for lack of trying. »

Anders promptly covered Leah’s ears, feigning indignation.

« Don’t talk such filth in front of the baby, » he protested, even as laughter crinkled his eyes.

« You’re an ass, » Marian informed him. « I love you. »


End file.
